


The Griffin's Passing

by anderswasright



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, Gen, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anderswasright/pseuds/anderswasright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Connington's last moments on a rainy battlefield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Griffin's Passing

The king was dead, and Lord Connington lay dying.

_I have failed you. I have failed to protect your son._

He closed his eyes and he could see Rhaegar's silver hair flowing in the wind, the day they stood together on the wall on his father's castle.

_It wasn't supposed to end like this. The hero, the boy who escaped death, should have won. In the songs, monsters like Ser Robert Strong would never have a chance._

How ironic must it be that Aegon was slain by the same man who was believed to have killed him as a babe? By a dead man who had no voice, no memories, and followed his mad queen's commands...

He had warned the boy to stay behind in battle.  _It is unfitting for a king to fight in the first row_ , he told him.  _And Your Grace is too important to risk it._

_My father fought his own battles_ , Aegon said. 

_He did. And he died, just like you, my poor, foolish king._

Connington opened his eyes again. Rain was pouring down, soaking the battlefield, washing all the blood deep into the earth. 

Perhaps they were doomed from start. He had carried death with him and although it didn't start a plague yet, a few men caught it, no matter how careful he was. His right hand was all gray-black by now, and it didn't hurt. It didn't work properly either. Still, he would have had a few years. Years that were meaningless now, years he did not care to have. 

He hoped he would meet Rhaegar again. Hoped and feared.  _What will you say, my prince? I have failed you twice. I should have died in Stony Sept._

Bells. He could hear them even now, that horrible mocking sound. He knew there was only the rain and the crows, but still he could hear the bells. 

_No. Please, no. I have paid enough._

The sound continued, it was just as loud as on that fateful day. And then the ghosts came.

The shadow of a fragile woman.  _You hated me. You wished I would die, you lusted for my husband. Did you think me blind, ser? You should have at least kept my son safe, and you did not._

_Go away,_ he thought desperately.

But there was another vision, a man in blood-stained white, with sword that shone like crystal.  _You ran away like a coward while we fought and died. You did not do your duty._

It wasn't over, it still wasn't. The sword that pierced him did not find his heart and he was trapped in what seemed to be an endless agony.  _I could not even do_  this _properly._

Bells. Bells. 

A woman in Targaryen colours, heavy with child, holding the hand of a little boy.  _My children suffered in exile because of you. You could have killed the Usurper if only you followed the King's orders._

And finally Rhaegar himself, looking at him with his sad indigo eyes.

_Do not accuse me_ , Connington prayed.  _Not you too. Forgive me, my prince. Forgive me. Make it stop. Make them go away. Have mercy._

_You loved me too much and it killed you in the end,_ the prince said, and for a moment the dying lord felt a ghostly hand on his shoulder. 

The shades vanished, only Rhaegar lingered for one more moment, and before he faded, he gave his old friend a comforting smile, and Connington knew he was forgiven.

Then the bells went silent at last.

 


End file.
